Unlikely Alliances
by Agonylord52
Summary: When everyone is forced to split up, they meet some unlikely allies who decide to help them. Note, there will also be some romantical aspects to this story. This is but a single chapter to a long list of many. Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 dead.
1. A Cry in the Dark

**DISCLAIMER** I do not own Left 4 Dead, it's characters or the city of Philedelphia.

Chapter 1: A cry in the Distance

"RUN!" The cry rang out through the quiet city streets, the sound of gunfire and explosives going off in the distance, rebounding off the hard materials that made up the city, echoing through the empty streets, off the lonely buildings. Yelling, gunfire, explosions... Fighting and, by the sound of it, to the death... The sounds continued for a while, getting more and more frantic as they carried on, more scared, more desperate. Eventually, inevitably, the sounds of guns and explosions stopped, to be replaced by a new sound... Screams. Screams of terror and pain, as the owners of the voices were quickly ripped to shreds by the massed horde that was the city. The citizens of Philadelphia, now nothing more than feral, bestial shadows of their former selves. More immunes now dead.

He sat there, crouched low to the ground, as if sitting on his haunches. His ear was raised to the sky, twitching, hearing what was happening even though he was miles away. He knew he had just missed out on a meal. Sitting there, he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in a large drainage pipe, leading from the now unused sewers of the city out to the Delaware. Looking around, he saw the rotten corpse of some old, long-dead homeless person. It would do for now, but he far preferred the feeling of warm blood flowing between his teeth, over his tongue, giving his cold body warmth and energy. The energy needed to perform the gigantic leaps he and his kind were so infamous for. He feasted, even if it was slow and with the constant threat of vomit, but he continued. He would need his strength if he was to catch any prey.

His mouth full and chewing the maggoty chunk of gangrene-ridden flesh, he decided that as soon as it was dark out, he would go hunting. It was as easy for him to see in the dark as it was in the day, but he knew it wasn't so for any survivors left alive. They, as well as all the non-mutational zombies, were strictly diurnal creatures, and he was going to take advantage of that.

His mind was more active than most of the other infected, being slightly more evolved. Thus, he required sleep to give his mind rest. Acknowledging that fact, he lay down, piling the remaining amount of corpse together into a large mound of wet, slimy, wriggling pillow. He would wake exactly as night fell, he decided, and closed his eyes, giving his infected brain a break.

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They were everywhere, all around them! There was no way out. Francis looked frantically around, looking in all directions. They were all perched on the top of a car, fending off a horde that had just appeared from a subway entrance. The cold, lifeless beings were pressing at them from all sides, swinging their arms, raking with their nails, trying to push them off. He suddenly felt a heavy, wet object hit him square in the back with a loud squelch. It sent him sprawling forward, nearly causing him to let go of his shotgun, but he was then pulled back forcefully. It was a smoker. The tongue had wrapped around his chest and was reeling him in. He was pulled off the roof of the car and slammed heavily onto the asphalt below. He was winded instantly, and in response, the tongue constricted mercilessly, making sure he couldn't get any more air.  
"Smoker's got Francis!" yelled Louis, who jumped off the car, jamming his boot into the face of the nearest infected. He had always been the impulsive one, and that trait had just killed him. He landed in a roll, and quickly got back up, running, punching, kicking his way towards the rapidly receding figure of Francis, who was struggling against the pull of the Smoker's tongue.

"Louis! There're too many! He's gone!" it was Bill who yelled this time, but it was in vain. You had to give it to that old 'Nam vet. If there was anyone tougher than Francis, it was that old son-of-a-bitch. He had survived through ambushes, torture, firefghts and other, countless obstacles, and had come back out of it, and with a sense of humor to boot!

Louis, however, had never been in such a situation, and had not kept a cool head. He realized his mistake too late. He had sealed his fate the instant he had jumped off. For the first time in his life, he felt pure terror. Fear like no other, as he felt them rip his living body to pieces in front of his very eyes.

"Dammit!" exclaimed bill angrily, as he watched his friend torn to pieces. But he didn't have time to mourn right now, he had to concern himself with his and Zoey's survival. "Zoey, we need to get the hell outta here! I'm running low!" he indicated his backpack, which carried most of their munitions.

"Fuck! Me too! But where can we go?!" She asked, fending off an infected who had tried to climb up onto the car. He shrugged and pelted a spray of bullets into the writhing mass of bodies below him. He heard Zoey cry out, and he turned expecting to see her pinned by a hunter. Instead Zoey had spotted something over to the right of the car, in the middle of the street. Bill looked quickly, not liking the idea of his back towards a mob of zombies, and saw it. An open manhole which a hunter had burst out of at some point. The cover was several meters away and slightly dented.

They looked at each other, and with a silent acknowledgement, jumped off simultaneously, Bill running for the lid and Zoey for the hole, covering him with her pistol fire. Bill reached the lid, and turned just to get tackled to the ground by a hunter. It started slashing at his face and chest as hard and as fast as it could. His rifle had been knocked out of his hands when it had landed on him, and he was slightly dazed from the impact, but he had enough wits about him to put his arms up in an attempt to protect himself. He reached with his left hand down to his leg, and took a knife out of the pocket. He swung, and scored a hit. The sideways force of the impact was enough to send the hunter sprawling to his right, and that gave him enough time to jump up, and stab it in the temple. It crumpled instantly.

"Are you alright?! He heard Zoey yell as she was beset by two infected at once. She managed to trip one, which fell down the hole, and shoot the other square in the throat.

"I'm fine, just make sure no more of those get me!" he yelled back, retrieving his rifle and picking up the lid. He was almost there, when a loud roar sounded from the rear of the horde. Bill's and Zoey's heads shot up to look each other directly in the eyes. Just when they thought it couldn't get any worse, a tank had come into the picture. In response to the sound, Bill ran faster, and Zoey shot faster. After what seemed like minutes, he arrived, placing the manhole cover beside the hole in order to slide it into place.

Zoey turned towards their escape route, but not before she caught a glimpse of the massive block of flesh burst through the wall of dead people and come charging straight towards her. Turning to Bill, she decided not to look again. Quickly, she lowered herself through the hole. Bill followed soon afterwards, but before he could get his whole body through, the unthinkable happened. He died. A piece of concrete the size of a man skimmed over the top of the manhole, cleaving Bill clean in two from the chest upwards, and also managing to completely block the manhole. He was dead. He was dead, and she was trapped.

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So, what'd you all think? Review please, and I'll try and cater to your requirements (not).


	2. Sweet Dreams P1

This is the second chapter in my series, hope you all enjoy ^_^

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Chapter 2: Sweet Dreams part 1

Oppressive darkness, pressing, squeezing, compressing her thoughts, her body, her mind. They were all gone, every one of them, the friends she had depended on for so long... Gone, and they would never come back...

She awoke suddenly, gasping and bolting upright from the lying position she had been in. It was dark, she couldn't see anything around her. The darkness was nearly complete. Squinting her eyes, they began to adjust to the dim light. She made out the shape of a small room, it was a rough cube shape and it was warm. Warmer than a sewer should be.

Something made a scuffling noise in the corner behind her, and she flipped around, just in time to have something slam into her chest, forcing her onto her back. Her mind flared in fear, a hunter! She was going to die here, alone in the darkness. Instinctively, she shielded her face with her arms, but the blows she expected never came. What did come, however, was the sound of light breathing and the feel of a tongue lapping at her exposed forearm. She looked cautiously between her arms, and stared in disbelief.

It was her dog, her Pomeranian! She was certain she had lost it in the first days of the infection! It sat there, on her chest, the way it always had whenever she had woken up in the morning. It's head was to the side, wondering why she was acting so strangely, as it nuzzled closer against her defensive arms. She stared in amazement, the furry puffball she had loved so much, with its pointed snout and tiny frame. It had been the cutest thing she had ever known, especially when she found it at the pet adoption center. It had only been a puppy then.

She sat up slowly, the canine leaping lightly onto her lap and licking her extended fingers once again. That was when she noticed the blanket covering her, as well as a pair of pajamas. What the hell was going on?! Picking up her dog, she stood, discovering also that she was sitting on a bed. A very comfortable bed that seemed somehow familiar. It took a few moments for it to kick in, but then she realized it was hers! Or at least, it had been, before everything had gone to shit. She gingerly stepped off of the bed, expecting at every moment to be tackled or hit by one of the infected. Her vision was starting to clear up now, and she placed the small dog on the ground at her feet. As soon as its small paws touched the ground, it started off to her right, and she followed closely. It led her to a dead end, or, wait? As she ran her hand over the wall, she felt a bump, a light switch perhaps? She flicked it and turned back to the room, and what she saw made her gasp. She dropped to her knees in shock. What, how, when? Hundreds of questions flitted through her mind as she stared at the impossible. Slowly, she stood, bracing herself against the wall at her back. Had the entire infection been a dream?! Was her mind that sick, to let her dream something so horrible, so terrible?!

It was her old room! It had her old posters, her shelves full of books, her computer and her closet. Oh her closet, finally she could change into the clothes she liked! She ran over to that first, picking out her favorite clothes and laying them out on her bed, just wanting to see them again. They had been one thing she had missed most about home. That may seem superficial, but you just try and wear the same set of clothes for weeks without washing them. You would change your tune pretty quickly.

While she was perusing her lost treasures, something else caught her eye. The window. What if, when she opened it, she discovered that this whole thing was a dream? That, when she looked out, she would see the chaotic ruins of Philadelphia. She moved over to it slowly. It had a thick, woolen curtain over it. Shoving that aside, she covered her eyes as the blinding sunlight streamed through, making her room seem golden. It was a beautiful Spring morning. She looked out, seeing the hundreds of sparkling jewels littering the ground, the dew that still clung to the tips of the grass. She had nearly forgotten how large her yard had been. There was a cherry tree just outside her window, she remembered how often she had picked cherries from there in the Autumn. They were always perfectly juicy, and the pit was always easy to spit out. They had been the best in the world! There was the nest that the Robins used every year, they would be back soon. Looking farther, she saw the pond. There were dozens of ducks and Geese, who had apparently just flown in from the South. They were preening their feathers, paddling without a care in the world. Her old life... If it was true and the infection had been a dream, she would never take any of it for granted again.

At that moment, with the thought of fresh cherries in her head, she noticed just how hungry she was. Should she go downstairs? What would she find? She felt a soft, plushy sensation at her left heel and, looking downwards, saw her Pomeranian again. It looked into her eyes, and when it knew it had her attention, scampered quickly back to the light switch, it was also where the door was, even if she hadn't noticed it before. She went over and examined every inch of it. It was a heavy oak door, made using five large boards of the wood, then securing them together with a "Z" shape of Yew across both sides, inside and out. It had a latch of wrought iron that her Grandfather had made. He had made one for each of the doors in the house before he passed away. She had put a bolt on this side of it afterwards, to give her the much needed privacy she always enjoyed.

She pushed down on the latch, and the door swung open easily, the hinges were freshly oiled. She entered the hallway and closed it behind her. The carpet felt good between her toes as she walked down the passage. At the end of the hallway was a stairwell which she knew led down to the kitchen and living room areas. When she reached the top, she stopped. A very pleasant smell penetrated her senses then and there. Pancakes! She rushed down the steps, nearly tripping in her haste, and ran to the opening of the kitchen. The sight that greeted her was one she had wished for hundreds of times while she lay in the cold safe houses. Her family.

Her grandmother was sitting at the table, finishing a pair of socks she was knitting for her son, my father. The man in question was sitting opposite her, reading the sports section of the newspaper. My mother was standing at the counter, her head down, watching her hands as she chopped apples to put in the pancake batter. She was humming a small tune in time with the radio that was on top of the shelf beside her.

"Mom, dad, gramma!" she yelled it without thought, tears streaming down her face as she rushed towards them, her father looking up in surprise, her mother jumping slightly but, thankfully, not cutting herself. Her grandmother, however, who was very hard of hearing, heard it as a normal greeting, and turned calmly towards her, her smile firm and solid, defying the years that were now undoubtedly piled on top of her shoulders. She ran straight to her father, hugging him as hard as she could. He sat there looking stunned for a few moments, then returned it, nervously at first, but gaining strength every second. She then ran over to her mother and hugged her, as well as her grandmother.

"Well now, what's gotten into you honey?" asked her Father in his deep, soothing voice she remembered so well.

Her mother added in a quip. "Where's the fire?" she chuckled slightly, wiping apple juice off her hands onto her apron.

"Oh let her have fun, she's in the prime of her youth! That's one thing I wish I had done more of when I was...." said her grandmother,the rest of her comment reverting to a barely audible mumble. This was her family, everyone she loved in her life!

She looked out the window in this room, hoping to see the beauty of outside again, but froze in place. The one thing that she didn't want to see was there, standing at the window sill, staring directly at her... A Hunter... It crouched low, behind the sill, and before she could get a shout out, it t jumped through the window, sending glass in all directions. They slashed and tore at her family, as if they were knives shredding a canvas. The hunter landed heavily on top of her, shrieking its brains out, as usual. She fought as hard as she could, but the Hunter had her by the wrists. She fought harder still, that is, until she saw her family. They were all lying there, bundled heaps of what looked like shredded paper, but with blood seeping from every tear. Her heart nearly stopped beating as she looked into the clouding eyes of her parents and grandmother. Everyone she ever cared for, everyone she had ever known, had been killed... Everyone... and it was because of those damned infected. She looked back up at the hunter, who was staring down at her, and she realized it was gently shaking her. But she no longer cared. Blind, unadulterated rage filled her to the brim, and she fought back harder and with much more ferocity. It was their fault! All of it! Their doing! They were the reason why she would never see her parents again, why she would never see her friends again.

In response, the hunter tightened its grip, growling to scare her into silence. At that moment, as if from nowhere, her Pomeranian bulldozed into the Hunter, slamming it into the wall to her right. The dog clawed and bit at the Hunter's face with a strength very unfiting a dog of its size. Suddenly, she wasn't in the kitchen anymore. It was as dark as it had been in her room, but not as warm, and it smelled worse. WAY worse. She heard the sounds of a struggle, and when she looked over, saw an infected beating the hell out of someone who looked like they had been thrown into the wall. She stood hastily, grabbed her pistol from the sodden ground where it had fallen, and shot the infected in the head. Its movement ceased instantly, and it keeled over to land with s loud splash of sewer water.

She knelt beside the dazed person, and gasped. It was someone whom she had resigned herself to never seeing again... Francis...

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Hey all, this was my second chapter. I gotta tell you, the whole part where she was dreaming, I nearly cried when I wrote it. It reminded me of my grandparents' place before my gramma died... Anyways, hope you all like it.


	3. Sweet Dreams P2

Alrighty, third chapter 2nd day. Lets see how y'all like it!

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Chapter 3: Sweet Dreams part 2

He stood, shaking his head and wiping the sleep from his eyes. It was morning. He growled angrily at himself for not waking during the night, but, he supposed, he could hunt in daylight as well. Stretching his still, rigor-mortisized muscles, went up into a crouch. He looked around, expecting to see the mound of old man he had used as a pillow and the pipe he had used as a house, but instead, he saw a bed of lavender. Alarmed now, he stood on his legs, sniffing the air cautiously. There was green colored fur all over the ground, and it felt good between his toes, and more trees than he had seen in one place at any time. He gazed upwards, and saw the sky was the most beautiful color he had ever seen it. A pure, royal blue, opalescent color. There were sounds, as well... Twittering and chirping.... Birdsong? It had been a long time since he had heard any of that... He decided he would climb one of the trees, so he could see his surroundings. It was not hard to find a suitable one, he wasn't picky. He could pretty much climb anything. What he was looking for, specifically, was height. Once he found one, he started climbing.

He clambered up the trunk, swinging off of branches to nearby trees, then swinging back up higher. He loved what he had turned into, he was now much faster, stronger and nimbler than he had ever been before. Before long, he had made it to the topmost branches, and balanced there, staring off into the distance. There was no sign of the city, no skyscrapers, no cars, just trees. He did see, however, a pond not too far away. It had many waterfowl that, if nothing else presented itself, would serve as a fine meal. Farther off, he saw large mountains, snow covering their peaks. He wouldn't like it there, he would freeze solid before he reached made it halfway up.... One drawback to not needing a circulatory system, you aren't automatically warmed. His nose suddenly caught a scent... It was faint, but readable. He turned in the direction of the smell and, to his satisfaction, saw a pillar of smoke drifting towards the sky. Living! Only the living built fires to stay warm, and he was pretty sure that it was only living humans. He pointed his face in that direction, and leaped, landing about a dozen feet away, grabbing onto another treetop. It wouldn't take long to get there.

He made his way through the trees, imagining what he would find when he got there. Would there be a large gathering, where he would have to wait and pick off a straggler? Would it be a singular individual? He hoped so, they were much easier to catch, and there was less chance of his getting shot. At one tree, he stopped. There was something living in it, he smelled it. He climbed lower, wondering constantly at what it could be, he had never smelled anything like it before. At one branch, he stopped, and found himself looking at a nest, filled with eggs. He picked one up slowly, wondering what he could do with it, when all of a sudden, he was beset by two birds. They flew at his face, trying to peck his eyes out, but thanks to his mutation, he was fast enough to avoid any damage, placing the egg back and leaping away to the relative safety of another tree. He decided he liked birds, he didn't know why, though. Maybe because they were so ferocious in their attack, springing suddenly on their victims, not unlike him. There were not many things that could sneak up on him, yet those birds had done so with ease.

He continued on his way, swinging monkey-style from branch to branch, until he thought he was close enough. He dropped to the ground, landing cat-like on all fours. Through the remaining trees, he saw a large building with an even larger clearing around it, which was full of nothing but that green fur. He could hear voices coming from within, and that meant survivors. He ran across the fur, stopping against the side of the building. He could vaguely make out what was being said.

"Well now, what's gotten into you honey?" a gruff sounding male's voice. It was closely followed by others, but they were too quiet even for him to hear. He snuck around one corner, and found himself staring right through a window at four people. One was sitting using sticks to poke a piece of springy material, another was staring at a piece of paper he held between his hands and laughing quietly to himself, and yet another was wiping her hands off on a piece of cloth covering her legs. The fourth was standing just opposite him, she was laughing out loud and obviously enjoying herself very much. That is, until she looked out the window. Looked out directly into his eyes. Her whole frame seemed to freeze. She was familiar somehow, but there was no time to think on that. If she had a chance to scream, the others would surely attack him with guns and fire. He crouched down quickly, and jumped with all his force, straight through the glass and straight at the girl. He looked around him as he flew, and saw that, as the glass hit the other three, they seemed to fall apart. He was slightly confused by this, but happy nonetheless. Less people to hurt him.

He landed heavily on the girl, preparing to slash at her with all his might, when that feeling came over him again. The feeling of recognization. Who _was_ she?! He was angry with himself, why was she so familiar to him? WHY?! Why was it so hard for him to kill her? While he sat upon her stomach, pondering these questions, she started struggling. He grabbed her wrists absent-mindedly, not wanting to hurt her... At least not yet. She suddenly stopped struggling, and this fact broke through his reverie, making him look down at her. Her face was a mask of horror, turned towards the people that now lay dead. The people he had killed. He felt something rise up in him, a very unpleasant feeling.... Was this guilt? Did he feel guilty for killing these people? If so, then why these people, and not the dozens of others he had killed? He had never felt guilt for killing before...

He looked back down at her face, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks... Was it because her seeing them dead made her sad? Was that why he felt so guilty, that he had made this next to meaningless meal cry? That thought really put his emergency brakes on. It made him think, and HARD. Who the hell was she to have such an effect over him?! He was suddenly shaken violently from his thoughts by her continuing struggling. He tightened his grip and growled, hoping to subdue her like before, but it didn't work, and she was strugling harder and harder by the second. He looked into her eyes, and saw pure hatred. That was why she was struggling so much, she wanted revenge. She was going to hurt herself if she kept this up. He suddenly had another thought. He would feel very bad if anything hurt this girl. That was also the last thought that went through his mind before he was tackled by what appeared to be a small canine. He felt his head connect solidly with the wall beside him, and his mind went blank.

He bolted upright, scattering maggots everywhere from where they had crawled on him in the night. It took a few moments to register what had happened. He was sitting back in the old drainage pipe, and it was almost dark out. He accepted the incident as a dream instantly, dismissing all the thoughts he had had in it. What a laugh, like he would ever spare a human just because she was familiar! He crouched low and jumped out of the pipe. It was time to hunt.

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So? C'MON PEOPLE! Get with the program! REVIEW!!!! I know this one is a bit shorter tha the rest, but that's because most of it was thinking, and infected don't have the most efficient brains.


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